


Good Enough

by queen_scribbles



Series: Astrid Hawke Canon [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 07:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_scribbles/pseuds/queen_scribbles
Summary: Astrid fights the clock--and her own inner demons--in a desperate race to find her mother before it's too late,





	Good Enough

As they exited the chantry and made their way down the steps, Astrid was profoundly grateful that Sebastian didn't try to break the silence. Her mind was a muddle of white lilies and Gamlen's face as he tried not to show how scared he was, and she didn't think she could have held a conversation if she tried. The few extra minutes of silence as they walked gave her time to collect her thoughts before they reached Fenris' mansion.  
  
Neither of them were surprised when it was Isabela who opened the door. "Hawke? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Mother's missing." Astrid hesitated, picking at a splinter peeling off her staff. Maybe if she didn't say the words, she could keep them from being true. "She... she received a bouquet of white lilies today."

Isabela's jaw tightened. "Shit. Fenris!"  
  
"I'm right here." He was already in his armor, hefting his greatsword to its place on his back as he descended the stairs.  
  
"Showoff," Isabela sighed. "Give me a second, Hawke." She dashed into a side room to retrieve her daggers. Astrid used the time to explain things to Fenris.  
  
"So, where do we start?" Sebastian was the one to ask, once they were all gathered in the front hall and prepared to set off.  
  
Astrid took a deep breath, knowing that neither he nor Fenris would like her plan much. "Gascard du Puis. Gamlen was going to head back to Lowtown, see if he could find anything, but that'll take too long. Gascard might know something already."  
  
To her surprise, neither man protested. They both simply nodded, and Fenris commented, "Lead the way."  
  
Her hands were shaking as she did.  
  
>*<>*<>*<>*<  
  
Gascard was lurking in a back corner of Darktown when they found him, "borrowing" a ruined hovel of a house that stank of sweat and rat piss. Astrid didn't even bother to knock, just kicked the door open and stormed in. "The killer you've been tracking, where is he?"  
  
The nobleman's brow wrinkled. "Hawke? What are you doing here?"  
  
She slammed a hand against the table with enough force to make Isabela jump and leaned in close. "He has _my **mother**._ "  
  
Gascard frowned. "That was fast."  
  
The words had barely left his mouth before Astrid was grabbing the front of his shirt and shoving him against the wall. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?!" she hissed as Sebastian and Fenris tried to pull her off.  
  
"He took Alessa today, as well," Gascard informed her. "I am surprised at the recklessness, that's all."  
  
She let him go, raked a hand through her hair. "Well, then we need to find him somehow. Any tricks or ideas you failed to mention last time we met?"  
  
He hesitated, twitching nervously when Fenris' hand started toward the hilt of his sword. "Wait, wait! There is one thing I can try. Since he has Alessa."  
  
"Do it," Astrid barked. _There's no time._   
  
Gascard pulled out a small vial, the inside stained red. "Alessa's blood. I can do a ritual. It will tell us where she is."  
  
 _That's blood magic,_ a voice in her head protested, years of her father's lectures revolting at the very idea.  
  
 _I don't care_ , she snapped back, bristling like a trapped animal as her morals bent under the weight of panic. _I won't be too late this time, I **won't**._ "Hurry up and do it, and if we arrive to naught but corpses, yours may join them."  
  
>*<>*<>*<>*<  
  
She was scaring him. The realization hit Sebastian as he stared at the mage's face, watching her as she watched Gascard. He'd never seen her so much as raise her voice, certainly she'd never _threatened_ anyone. And now blood magic, as this surely was? But what scared him perhaps the most was that he _understood_. Having lost his own family, knowing what hers meant to her, he could understand the desperation etched in her face, her posture. And so he kept his protests and misgivings about using blood magic to himself. Because if this choice had been presented to him--one small ritual, a chance to save _someone_ and get revenge at the same time--he couldn't say with certainty that he'd refuse. So instead he sidled up next to Astrid and took her hand. There was a half-second's delay, and then her fingers wrapped tightly around his. They stood in silence together, not needing words. And while it may have simply been his imagination, Sebastian would have sworn Astrid had relaxed just a little by the time Gascard finished his ritual and gave them a location.  
  
>*<>*<>*<>*<  
  
Her heart sank roughly to her toes when Gascard's ritual led to an all-too-familiar abandoned foundry. "No. Please, Maker, _no_."  
  
"We've been her before, haven't we?" Isabela asked warily.  
  
"Yes," Fenris confirmed, drawing his sword. "Looking for Mharen and Ninette de Carrac. Do you feel that?"  
  
"Balls, it's not just me, then," Isabela muttered, daggers suddenly in hand, the blades gleaming dangerously even in the low light. "There's something off here, Hawke. Worse than last time."  
  
Last time. The panic hit full force and nearly knocked her to her knees, one hand scrabbling for support against a mildewed wall. _Worse_.  
  
"Astrid!" A hand on her shoulder, than cupping her face, anchoring her to reality. "Just breathe. Focus."  
  
She struggled, but did as he asked, and after a few seconds, a pair of concerned blue eyes came into focus. _**So** blue_... Shortly after, the rest of Sebastian's face followed suit, and her heart began to slow. "Thank you," she panted, around a weary and grateful smile.  
  
"Don't mention it," he assured her, his hand drifting back to her shoulder. "Dare I ask what you found last time?"  
  
"Bones. Blood. A-A severed hand. A ring... Like someone had been using this place for sacrifices." She rested her forehead against the wall. "If I'd been just a little bit faster, we might've caught the son of a bitch then..."  
  
"Hey, none of that," Isabela butted in, making Astrid acutely aware of _how close_ Sebastian had been standing. "You are _not_ responsible for whatever depraved bullshit other people dream up, you hear me, Hawke? Let's go find this asshole and put him down for good."  
  
"Couldn't agree more, 'Bela," Astrid nodded, mustering a tremulous smile. She shot Sebastian a grateful look as she filed into the lead.  
  
There were demons, as she'd expected. And more than last time, which she'd also expected. What she hadn't expected was the trapdoor. Tucked in a corner but far from _hidden_ , the wooden hatch was thickly spattered with fresh blood. It made her want to vomit. So close. They'd come _so close_ to finding his bolthole last time. Fenris hauled the trapdoor open and started down the ladder it revealed, Isabela right behind him.   
  
Sebastian held back a moment, glancing at Astrid. "How're you holdin' up?"  
  
"Well as can be expected," she said grimly, free hand fidgeting with a buckle on her robes. "Better for having you with me."  
  
"Whatever I can do to help," he assured her, checking to make sure Isabela was all the way down before he began descending the ladder.  
  
Astrid turned to Gascard. "After you."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Don't trust me, Hawke?"  
  
"No," she replied bluntly. "After you."  
  
Gascard sighed and climbed down the ladder. Astrid followed, her nose wrinkling at the stale, sour smell that permeated the air at the bottom. They'd barely ventured into the first large room when they were attacked by demons and shades.  
  
It was as they finished the fight , last of the frozen demons shattering under a blow for from Astrid's staff, that she saw it; a grey-haired figure, clad in bright silk and laying entirely too still on a makeshift table. "Mother!"  
  
 _Too late. You were too slow **again**. Why are you never good enough to save the people you care about?_ The thought mocked her as she lunged toward the table, grasped one slender shoulder-  
  
And Alessa rolled onto her back, sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling. The woman's name slid from Astrid in a breathless, relieved gasp.  
  
"There's still time," she whispered, bile rising as it hit her she had just felt _relief_ that an innocent woman was dead.  
  
Just because it meant Mother might be alive.  
  
This time she did vomit. She felt Isabela's hand on her shoulder, was vaguely aware of Gascard fidgeting impatiently, but stayed as she was until she was certain she was done.  
  
"Come on," she said, gripping her staff more tightly. "We need to keep moving." _I've wasted enough time_.   
  
They pressed on, harried by demons and shades and undead every step of the way, crumpled notes slowly piecing together what this man was _doing_. Talk of Mharen having _her_ hands, another woman having _her_ ears... It gave Astrid a _very_ bad feeling, a knot that kept tightening in the pit of her stomach.  
  
And then she saw the gleam of gold, snagged on the wall near a flight of stairs. The sick feeling sharpened as she pulled the necklace free. "Mother's locket." Her fingers curled around the golden pendant, the broken chain dangling free. "She'd never willingly part with this..."  
  
"We'll find her, Hawke," Fenris promised in an undertone as he cautiously made his way down the steps. Astrid and the others followed, equally cautious. At the bottom, they found themselves in what must have been the killer's living area--a half-made bed, chairs, scattered books and papers. Gascard started looking through some of the papers, but Astrid's attention was captured by the painting over the fireplace.  
  
"That woman..." she breathed, sick feeling tugging at her gut. "She looks like Mother..."  
  
Her friends' attention all snapped to where she was looking and she heard the sharp intake of breath before Fenris and Isabela cursed.  
  
"We must be gettin' close," Sebastian murmured reassuringly, hand on her arm to offer support. "Obsessive as he's comin' across, I can't imagine this man livin' too far from his... work space. We'll find her, Astrid."  
  
All she could do was nod, swallowing hard and clutching her mother's locket a little tighter as she prayed they found her _alive_.  
  
Sebastian was right; it wasn't too much further in that they found the man they were seeking. He was nothing like she expected; not tall or short or wild-haired, just a thoroughly average older man. The only things that might make someone think twice about him were the maniacal gleam in his eyes and the power she could feel rolling off him--probably augmented by dabbling in things he shouldn't.  
  
His voice, however, was exactly as Astrid had expected. "Ah, _there_ you are," he crooned around the least-genuine smile she had ever seen. "I was beginning to wonder what was taking so long. Leandra was so _sure_ her loving daughter would come for her."  
  
Was. _No, not again. Please, Maker, not again._ "Where is she?!"  
  
Even as the demand surged from her, twisted by anger at this piece of filth saying her mother's name like they were old friends, Gascard pushed his way past her. "Quentin!"  
  
Her attention snapped to the nobleman. "All this time you knew his name?! You couldn't _bloody_ give me that?!"  
  
"You might have found him without me, then," Gascard shrugged. "And I need what he knows."  
  
"And what does he know, exactly, that was worth risking the lives of every woman in Kirkwall?!" Astrid hollered, eyes flashing red.  
  
"Necromancy," Gascard replied evenly, eyes still fixed on Quentin. "How to cheat death itself. If you won't teach me willingly, old man, I'll settle for tearing the secrets from your skull."  
  
Astrid's jaw tightened, the familiarity in that last sentence confirming her suspicions. "You. _**Bastard**._ To think I gave you the benefit of the doubt, that first time. You fed me your sob story about your poor murdered sister-"  
  
Quentin laughed at that, interrupting her tirade. "No, no sister. Just an incredibly _determined_ student, and a mentor who couldn't teach him properly after my wife died." His voice dropped to a whisper, almost reverent. "Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is, _Astrid_?" He barely paused before answering his own question, not giving her time to process the shift in conversation or the fact he'd used her _name_. "Love. I pieced her together, from memory." Quentin paced as he talked, circling the high-backed chair that sat between him and them. Astrid gripped her staff harder as she watched him, imagining her fingers were wrapped around his throat instead of the wood. "I found her fingers, her eyes, all the things I loved about her... and at last her face. Oh, how I've missed this beautiful face." His hand reached out, caressed the huddled figure perched on the chair. "Do you have any idea how long I've searched? How far I've gone to find her again? And now that I have, beloved, no force on this earth shall part us!"  
  
A small nudge from the impassioned mage was all the seated figure needed to lurch to her feet, clad in a dirty white mockery of a wedding gown. A painfully familiar face was framed by the tattered veil and rough, uneven stitches cutting across her neck.  
  
 _Mother_. A wordless bellow of rage and pain surged from her lips as Astrid flung a stonefist at Quentin's head.  
  
"No!" Gascard lunged forward, summoning a spell of his own to knock the stonefist off-course. "You cannot kill him, Hawke! I need-"  
  
He never finished the sentence. Fenris' greatsword rammed through his chest at the same instant an arrow pierced his throat. The nobleman's body collapsed in an unceremonious heap as Fenris removed his sword.  
  
And four sets of very angry eyes focused as one on the crazed necromancer.  
  
But Quentin was ready for them. With a wave of his hand, undead warriors and demons stood between them and him. A few more gestures, and the skeletal corpses moved like puppets on strings. Which was exactly what they were, Astrid realized grimly as she dodged the claws of a demon and used sheer force of will to crush the thing to the ground. Unfortunately, the puppet master was hiding inside an arcane shield, safe from both magical and physical attacks as he threw more waves of enemies at them. Astrid forced herself to clamp down on the unmitigated fury roaring in her ears. She knew how those shields worked; that all she had to do was wait. Sure enough, after the third band of undead and demons fell, Quentin's shield started to flicker. Her lips curled in a feral smile as she started gathering power, letting it simmer just below the surface until the shield faltered and failed entirely.  
  
And then, with a furious cry, she sent a huge, sharpened hunk of ice flying toward Quentin with enough force it skewered his chest and pinned him to the wall. He let out a single choked gasp, blood seeping from the corners of his mouth, and then slumped limply against the ice.  
  
The... _thing_ wearing her mother's face tottered and fell with the sustaining magic gone. Astrid lunged forward instinctively to catch her. "No, Mother!" _Not you, too. Please, please, **stay with me**._   
  
Glazed eyes blinked open and met hers as she cradled the patchworked form in her lap, a beatific smile curving cracked lips. "I knew you'd come for me..."  
  
"Of course, you know me," Astrid managed around the lump in her throat, keenly aware of the friends gathered around her. "I'm always here to save the day." _Except now. Except the one time it matters on a personal level, the one time it's someone close to me.  
  
Well, not the **one time**._ Images of her father, of Bethany, even of Carver danced in her mind. Sickness, an ogre, the Blight... now this. It didn't even help reminding herself Carver _wasn't dead_ , he _**wasn't** , _because she'd still _failed_. She paused to shove away the rising panic and swallow the threatening tears. "I'm sorry, Mama. I didn't mean it when I said I wanted you to leave me alone and let my live my life how I want. I know you only give me advice because you love me, and I'm sorry for that and sorry I wasn't fast enough..."  
  
"Shh, shh, darling, it's alright. I understand. That man wanted to keep me trapped in here, forever. But now, I'm free." Her smile widened, almost lazily, like she was waking from a nap, not _dying_ in her daughter's arms. "I'll get to see Bethany again, and... and Malcolm. But you..." The smile vanished, replaced by concern. "You'll be all alone."  
  
"Oh, don't worry about me," Astrid deflected, blinking away tears as a hand settled gently on her shoulder. "I'll... be fine."  
  
It was a lie. The doubts and blame were already circling. _Too slow, too slow, you failed **again**. But did you **really** expect any different?_   
  
"My little girl's grown up so strong," he mother murmured, voice fading. "I-I love you, Astrid. And I'm proud of you. I've _always_ been proud of you." Her eyes slid closed, and the body cradled in Astrid's lap went limp.  
  
"Mother?" She felt the tears start in earnest when there was no response. "Mother?!"  
  
"Hawke..." Fenris' voice was hesitant, wanting to offer comfort and condolence, but reluctant to say The Words she knew but didn't want to hear. It was when the elven warrior rested his hand next to Sebastian's on her shoulder that she started to crumble, and when Isabela's joined them, she broke completely.  
  
Astrid lost track of how long she sat there--two minutes, five, ten--curled over the dead woman who was both her mother and not, her friends' hands resting on her shoulders in a silent show of support. But, badly as she may have wanted it in that moment, life didn't stop. It didn't even slow down. And so she sniffled, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and offered a wobbly smile of wordless thanks to Sebastian, Fenris, and Isabela. "I-I need to... Gamlen shouldn't see her like this. But I have to tell him. And Carver..."  
  
"We'll help with whatever you need, Hawke," Isabela promised. Astrid took them up on it.  
  
It didn't take long to clear off one of the long tables Quentin had used for his experiments. It wouldn't have been her first choice for her mother's pyre, but they had to work with what was available. The ancient and dry-rotting table caught fire quickly, even from the miserably small spell Astrid was able to conjure. She watched numbly as Sebastian said the prayers and her mother was consumed by the flames. Jaw set firmly in a bid to bottle up her emotions until it was safe to break again, she strode over to Quentin's corpse, still pinned to the wall by her giant icicle, jerked his head back by the lank grey hair, and slit his throat with her dagger.  
  
"No resurrection or cheating death for you," she whispered harshly, watching the blood run down the front of his robes. Gascard required no such assurances, between the gaping hole in his chest and the arrow through his throat. Satisfied neither of them could possibly walk away from this to hurt someone else, Astrid headed for the stairs.  
  
"Hawke..." Isabela nodded toward the still-burning table. "Aren't you forgetting something?"  
  
"No," Astrid replied flatly. "The foundry walls are stone, there's nothing close by enough to catch, and I'll stay to make sure it's contained, but I want this place to _burn_. All his notes, all his research, all his experiments, I want it to burn with him and his bastard apprentice." And with that, she turned and left, one brittle step at a time.  
  
By the time they made it back to the ladder up to the trapdoor, they could hear the roar of the growing conflagration below them, as books, papers, and dried-out wood fed the flames. By the time they exited the foundry, smoke was belching out the trapdoor. And by the time Fenris and Isabela solemnly took their leave, she could see embers winking in the few high windows the foundry possessed.   
  
And Sebastian stayed. Didn't say a word--though she did see him murmuring what she assumed was the Chant once or twice--didn't try to make it better, didn't even make the first move to offer comfort, respecting her space. But when her hand groped seeking human contact, he took it and didn't let go until the flames had died and they returned to Hightown.  
  
"Thank you," was all that made it out when they parted ways at her door. _Please stay_ seemed too presumptuous and tangled in her doubts until Sebastian had vanished from sight. _I don't want to be alone_ was too broken and likewise wouldn't come out. With a sigh, Astrid pushed open the front door of her mansion, feeling the numbness settle in as she was greeted by two very hopeful dwarves. It stayed heavy on her shoulders all through talking to Bodahn, to Gamlen, dulled her nerves to the point that when her uncle spat _"Why couldn't you have just been normal, like Carver?"_ upon hearing the killer was a mage, it didn't even sting. Then came the parade of friends, trickling in as word reached them, offering heartfelt condolences and promises of support.  
  
And after that came the emptiness. Knowing Bodahn, Sandal, and Orana were downstairs didn't make her room seem any less lonely--even with a mabari curled up next to her. Storm seemed to know exactly what was wrong, and stayed where she was, head in Astrid's lap, all night long. A night Astrid spent staring at the wall as she absently stroked her dog's head, unable to sleep. As the first hints of dawn peeked through the window, she glanced down at the locket still clutched in one hand and loosened her grasp enough to flick it open. She stared at the pictures inside for a long moment before working her way out from under the sleeping mabari and padding softly from her room.  
  
She wasn't sure how long she stood outside her mother's room, trying and failing to work up the courage to enter, alternating between fiddling with the locket and picking at the sleeve of her too-big sleep shirt. It _had_ been Carver's, a fact that did nothing to improve her state of mind when she recalled it. Finally, with a deep breath and a tight squeeze around the locket that had already imprinted itself into her palm, she stepped forward and opened the door.  
  
It almost hurt more that it didn't hurt. There was no overwhelming wave of emotion, no crippling rush of loss, just the empty, buzzing numbness of a soul bled so dry the tears wouldn't even come. Astrid stood just inside the doorway, surveying the room and its contents; the jewelry box on the dresser was open, the dress Mother had worn to the de Launcets' still draped over a chair. It bore so many signs of its occupant planning to come back it made her heart hurt. She was so lost in her thoughts, the battle with her doubts, she nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of a quietly cleared throat.   
  
"Sorry," Sebastian apologized, seeing her flinch. "Bodahn let me in. I wanted tae check on you."  
  
"You're up early," Astrid mumbled, trying to both hide and slow her racing heart.  
  
"Dawn prayers," he shrugged, eyes full of concern. "What's your excuse?"  
  
"Couldn't sleep," she admitted. "I just..." she stepped further into the room, traced a finger along the edges of the jewelry box before she looked back at him, even caring if she was mess. "I can't stop thinking... this is my fault."  
  
"No, it's _not_!" Sebastian contradicted, voice thick with fierce indignation as he followed her into the room and tipped up her chin to insure she met his eyes. "This is the farthest thing from _your fault,_ H- Astrid."  
  
The tears started to prick as she struggled to believe him. "Maybe if I hadn't yelled at her, hadn't gotten her upset, she she would have been paying more attention and he wouldn't have been able to grab her. Or if I'd been just a little bit faster-"  
  
"And maybe if I'd behaved myself and not been given to the Chantry, I could have done something to save _my_ family," Sebastian said, cutting her off.  
  
"That's ridiculous, you'd've just been killed, too," Astrid retorted, swiping at tears.  
  
"No more ridiculous than you assumin' the burden of another's evil, Astrid," he countered quietly, pulling her into a hug. "I'm with Isabela on this; other people's depravity is not your responsibility. You did your best-"  
  
"And it wasn't enough!" she keened, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "It's _never_ been enough. _**Ever**_. I couldn't save my father, I couldn't save Bethany, the best I could do for Carver was a _delayed_ death sentence, and now this... It can't happen again, Sebastian." She looked up at him, eyes red from the tears. "I am not strong enough to do this again. I can't let anything happen to y- anyone I care about again."  
  
His breath caught at her exhaustion-induced slip, and he held her closer as the tears finally started in earnest. "While I believe you're a good deal stronger than you think you are, I do understand the sentiment. And I'll do everything in my power tae help you keep it."  
  
"Thank you," Astrid mumbled, voice even further muffled by his shirt. They both felt when her knees wobbled, and moved almost as one toward the bed. She couldn't bring herself to do more than sit on the edge, but it was better than standing. "Y'know, Storm wouldn't budge from my side all night. Why do I have a feeling you're going to be at _least_ as stubborn as she was?"  
  
Sebastian chuckled quietly, his thumb rubbing absent circles against her shoulder blade. "B'cause while I'd never claim tae be as good a companion as a mabari, I do at least have the tenacity of one."  
  
She felt the barest hint of a smile reluctantly tug ever so briefly at one corner of her mouth. "Trust me, Sebastian, you're more than good enough for me."  
  
She felt him smile ever-so-slightly against her hair as he settled in next to her. "An' that's more than good enough for _me_."  
  
Astrid tucked her legs up under her, curling in closer to his chest even as she asked, "Won't they need you at the chantry?"  
  
"Maybe. You need me more."  
  
A small whirl of selfish relief danced in her chest at the words, and she decided not to protest them. They were true, and the relief of having someone she didn't have to be strong for, who she trusted enough to let him see her break, was indescribable. So Astrid sat on her mother's bed, held close by the person she trusted most with her grief, and cried. Tomorrow she could go back to being the stalwart champion who let nothing deter her from solving Kirkwall's problems.  
  
Today she just needed to be broken, and to know that it was okay.   


**Author's Note:**

> I know there's dozen of fics for All That Remains, so this is basically me getting grumpy there's no content for Sebastian-romancing Hawkes during the quest and writing my own.


End file.
